


War Crimes

by cynicalwerewolf



Series: Wormholes, Spaceships, and Cloud Pine Branches [3]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Canonical Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalwerewolf/pseuds/cynicalwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fetuses in the eighteen uterine replicators the Escobarans shot at the Barrayarans were expected to be aborted. Miles decides to take action against the Escobaran and Betan authorities for war crimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wind-up

**Author's Note:**

> An issue that's been bothering me for a while. Warning: does not paint the Betan and Escobaran authorities in a very nice light.

“Are you ready for this, Gregor?” Nalaresti asked. They could see Miles and Sularenimon preparing their own defenses for this meeting.

“Yes,” he whispered back. In truth, he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he was trying to seem, but he had promised to support Miles fully through this…belated vengeance on galactic hypocrisy. Miles had been preparing this since the Hegan Hub War, two years past. Possibly longer, but that was when Gregor had been brought into the plot.

“Sierdtsy?” Miles’s voice broke into his musing. “I could do this with Vorhovis, if you have a problem. He knows the details.”

“No,” Gregor said, “It won’t be nearly as effective with an Auditor instead of the Emperor. After all, most Galactics hardly understand our honor system, how can they understand what it means to be Emperor’s Voice. Besides, Vorhovis is too recent an appointment to carry the full weight of this.”

Shrugging slightly, Miles said, “Then we had better begin.” He opened the door and Sularenimon flew into the Privy Chamber to perch on the comconsole, right where he could look disapprovingly down from above Miles’s head. They had arranged the seating for that effect.

After the raven daemon had gotten himself settled, Miles, Gregor, and Nalaresti entered. Gregor was in full House blacks with the Imperial Seal on its chain about his throat. Miles, unusually enough, was wearing the white and silver silks of the Koskhan Clan with only a shoulder patch showing the Vorkosigan mountains and maple leaf denoting his House affiliation. His clothes were cut in a pattern between House blacks and the pattern witches used to signify the opening of a feud. In his right hand, he carried a flimsy folder. Not that he thought the Betan ambassador would catch the nuances of dress and weaponry, but the Escobaran one might.

She did. The Embajador Catalina Merlo, and her bat daemon both flinched. The Betan Ambassador, Thomas Peltier, was still getting over seeing Sularenimon leave Miles’s side. Miles and Gregor walked almost to the conference table, matching their movements so that they were in unison from their turn around the table until they took their seats. The only difference in their mirrors was Nalaresti’s presence at Gregor’s side, and at the end she seated herself between Miles and Gregor.

Gregor didn’t give either of the ambassadors an opportunity to speak. He said, “Your demand for further reparations for Escobar, by reason of the Escobaran invasion are denied.” Peltier began to open his mouth, but Gregor silenced him with a look. “Barrayar has paid numerous fines, both overt and covert, for that ill-conceived military action. All involved in the war crimes have been punished, and those who bear the responsibility are dead. Should you choose to take action in the galactic courts, we shall lay counter-suit for eighteen counts of war crimes against Escobaran and Betan governments, as well as suits for liable and slander against the Barrayaran Imperium perpetrated by the Escobaran and Betan governments.”

“Preposterous,” Merlo said, sounding almost amused.

“Is it?” Miles asked, voice sweet as honey. He opened the folder and began to pull out flimsies, saying, “I have here documentation regarding the transfer of eighteen fetuses from their primarily Escobaran military mothers to uterine replicators, and the order to turn those eighteen replicators over to the Barrayaran military, with the understanding that whatever the Barrayarans did to the fetuses or children that developed was acceptable. I have statements from Escobaran and Betan citizens, including government officials, that they were certain the fetuses and resultant infants were experimented upon by the Barrayaran military. There is an interesting passage of galactic law stating that, should the mother choose to transfer a body birth to a uterine replicator, the child is granted full person’s rights, as the mother has decided to allow the fetus to mature into full infant. Therefore, the Escobaran high command, in giving these unborn persons to the Barrayaran authorities, who acknowledged that they were not fighting under galactic law, they were denying the rights of the unborn persons, whose mothers were Escobaran and, in two cases, Betan citizens and who should have passed their citizenship over to their infants, even if those infants were to be adopted.”

Sularenimon took over, “Furthermore, in handing these children over for genetic and medical experimentation, the high commands and governments of two planets denied these children their rights as persons.”

Peltier managed to stutter out, “B-but…they were the product of rape! Surely you don’t expect their mothers to take charge of the children they didn’t want?”

“By galactic law,” Miles said, more impatiently, “When the children were placed in uterine replicators, they were acknowledged as wanted, if not by their parents, by their governments. Therefore, turning the replicators over to the Barrayaran military was an abrogation of their citizens’ rights.” He paused, and said, “As it happens, the children were raised by the Barrayaran government and have been offered full subjects’ rights in the Barrayaran Imperium. Some have chosen to emigrate, even to Beta and Escobar. But that does not change the fact that they were the responsibility of the Betan and Escobaran governments, and were given over to Barrayaran authority with the full expectation of their deaths.”

“And the rape of their mothers?” Merlo asked, sounding challenging.

“Barrayar has paid her blood-price for the crime, all that was asked for and more,” Gregor whispered.

Sularenimon broke in, “Also, there are certain risks to being a soldier.” The daemon spoke with authority, “One of them is that your opponent may choose not to respect the galactic laws of war, either collectively or individually. Those risks apply to all soldiers, male and female, young and old. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, but it happens.”

Miles and Sularenimon certainly knew that. While their suffering had been at the hands of a formerly Barrayaran soldier, they had been placed in that position by a galactic woman, one who supposedly acknowledged the codes of conduct.

The two ambassadors eyed the Barrayarans. Miles and Gregor met their gazes evenly; Miles leaving the file open with the air of a soldier or witch of the Time of Isolation leaving a blade unsheathed in the presence of enemies. Nalaresti stood, assuming a mildly aggressive pose as she did, her gaze also meeting the ambassadors’ challenge. Sularenimon flew over to perch on the back of Miles’s chair, landing so delicately he didn’t disturb the papers when he back winged.

Merlo was the first to disturb the tableau, saying, “We must confer between ourselves and our governments privately. We will have your answer as soon as possible.” Peltier bowed his head without needinging to say anything. Looking over both ambassadors and daemons, Gregor thought they had made an impression. 

He hoped so. It would be good for them to acknowledge that galactic society wasn’t as perfect as it might have appeared.


	2. Hurt and Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we get what we need, even if it's no where near what we want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a chapter dealing with an Escobaran family meeting their Barrayaran war orphan family member. This is what came out.

As I watched the Barrayarans carefully ignoring us while we waited, I wondered if my sisters and I were doing the right thing. I _thought_ we were, but there was a great deal of hostility, even from Barrayarans who I wouldn’t have thought likely to have even heard of the trials.

We were members of a group made up of primarily Escobaran families. There was one pair of Betans, a jump-pilot and her husband. The pilot and her cardinal daemon were even more nervous than my family. Unsurprising, as the pilot looked old enough to have served in the late war, although her husband didn’t

“I don’t like the looks of that pilot’s husband,” Milagra whispered to me from her position at my side.

Taking a second look, I saw what my cheetah daemon had noticed first. Both the husband and his tan gibbon daemon were in aggressive postures. I whispered back, “I hope he doesn’t get arrested. That won’t help anyone.”

Before we could talk more, my youngest sister, Palmira, tapped me on the shoulder to stop the conversation and said, “She’s here!” Both she and her daemon, Tikitt, appeared excited. 

Araceli, who was just old enough to remember what Mother had been like before the war, looked more concerned. Her grip on Ulsys was just shy of painful, not that the clouded leopard would admit to hurt. Her tone was just as concerned as Milagra’s, “She doesn’t look very happy.”

Following Araceli’s gaze, I had to agree. While Melina’s presence was a positive sign, she looked as though she would rather be having major surgery than here. Major surgery without anesthetic. 

As she came closer, I noticed her clothing choice seemed odd. The base color was white with silver trim, and while not exactly a uniform, the cut was certainly communicating danger. Even more disquietingly, there was no sign of a daemon anywhere about her. The air of danger was common to witches, and she had it in spades. She looked like Lleque Abuela, even without the feeling of hidden strength and wild emotions.

When she reached us, she stopped, remaining incredibly still for an eternal moment. Finally she spoke to me, “I suppose you’re Silvio Perez.”

I nodded to acknowledge the statement before gesturing to my sisters and their daemons, “This is Araceli and Ulsys.” I paused briefly, but Melina didn’t say anything. “And these are Palmira and Tikitt.” The ring-tail seemed to have picked up on Melina’s distance, but the seventeen year old human seemed just as oblivious as before. I prayed that Melina wouldn’t say anything too rude to her.

But Melina seemed more taken aback than anything else. Finally, she awkwardly extended a hand, and said, “Melina Koskhan.”

It was the first time she had mentioned her surname, and it sounded familiar but I couldn’t place what made it so. However, Araceli put things together much quicker, “You’re from the same family as that Miles person?”

I nearly slapped myself. Miles Vorkosigan-Koskhan had been identified as the force behind the suit. But Melina took offense at Araceli’s tone. She hissed, “He is my clan-brother, and I will hear nothing against him by strangers. And he is the reason I’m even here.” With a mercurial shift in posture and tone, she then asked, “Have you eaten?”

Trying to bring my thoughts together, I said, “No, but-“

Melina cut me off, saying, “Then I’ll take you to a restaurant. I know a number of good ones.”

She turned on her heel and began marching down the street. I felt a flash of anger and dashed forward to grip her shoulder when I heard Palmira sniffle slightly.

Melina started, before letting me turn her about. I growled, “I am getting tired of humoring you. If you didn’t want to see us, you should have said ‘no, don’t come’, not stand here snarling at us. How can anyone stand you being such an utter bitch?”

I wished I could take the last sentence back, but it seemed to produce an emotion besides almost anger and distain. She was pissed off, “Fuck you. You think it was easy deciding to come and see you? I almost didn’t come here today, but Miles told me that I’d gone too far to back down. And as for _humoring_ me, I was abandoned by your mother. I’m doing my best not to hold her decisions against you, but it’s a damn hard thing.”

Bowing my head, I began to apologize, but Palmira cut in first, “Decided to abandon you?” She sounded almost crushed.

Melina had the same expression that I suspected had been on my face a moment ago. She took first one step, then another until she was close enough to touch Palmira. Araceli gripped my shoulder in fear, but Melina didn’t come any closer. With far more tenderness than we had heard from our half-sibling yet, she said, “I’m sorry, Palmira. She was one of the women capable of making a conscious decision, which is why I didn’t wish to see her.”

“How did you know?” Araceli, like myself, didn’t doubt Melina’s knowledge. Her tone held a little defensiveness, but far more curiosity. 

Our half-sister shrugged slightly, before saying, “Miles. He buried himself in the Escobaran and Betan records-“ Melina was cut off by raised male voices. We turned, and saw the pilot’s husband arguing with a young man with a beaver daemon and the jump-pilot’s eyes. The pilot herself appeared to be having a panic attack.

Melina’s lips thinned, but before she could march over and give the husband a piece of her mind, the pilot snapped out of her spell and punched her husband, yelling at him herself. Turning back to us, Melina said, with one of her lightning mood shifts, “I can assure you that lunch will be both good and inexpensive.”

She had a gleam in her eye. Warily, I asked her, “You aren’t going to take us to the Vorkosigan residence, are you?”

Laughing, she said, “No. You wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Vorkosigan House. No, we’re going to a little Greek restaurant near the University. I eat there often.” Glancing up at the roofline, she grinned briefly.

Palmira asked, “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing,” Melina said, utterly unconvincingly. I glanced up to try and see what had amused her so much, but whatever it had been was gone.

* * *

We arrived at the Greek restaurant shortly after 1400. The place had more vehicles in the lot than I would have expected at this time of day, but perhaps it was the Barrayaran day of rest. A falcon that had been perching on the roof launched itself and glided down to rest on the arm Melina flung out for that purpose. After giving him a good scratch, she said to us, “This is Kythe. Kythe, these are my half-siblings: Palmira and Tikitt, Araceli and Ulsys, and Silvio and Milagra.”

Kythe gave us an intense look before he gave an almost shrug and began to preen his primaries. His appearance explained a great deal about Melina’s personality, including the lightning fast mood shifts. Idly, I wondered if Melina would be interested in meeting our great-grandmother. Lleque Abuela hadn’t spoken to our mother in years, and now we knew why, but she had kept in touch with all us grand-children.

My thoughts came to a screeching halt when we entered the restaurant and saw a pair of identical short, dark haired, grey eyed young men seated at the table closest to the door. One of the two stood and, after giving us a long look approached Melina and gave a slight bow. I was glad that he didn’t pay us more attention. This was someone accustomed to wielding a powerful personality among and against equally strong wills. He asked, “It went well?”

She shrugged, saying, “As well as could be expected. But you knew that already, thanks to the feathery spies you set on me.”

It was the man’s turn to shrug, “Believe it or not, Ren was the one who suggested it, and Killer…Only Mark knows what goes on in Killer’s mind. He may be my brother’s daemon, but I don’t understand him. But whatever prompted it, I’m about seventy-five percent certain it was concern for you.”

Shaking her head as she said it, Melina muttered fondly, “Interfering busybodies.” Then she almost gave a come-hither gesture before pausing, saying, “Mark, are you trying to scare my half-siblings?”

I realized that the second young man had appeared by his brother’s side. Looking at us with coldly distant eyes, his gaze flickered to Melina’s face before he smiled slightly and said, “Yes.”

Rolling her eyes, Melina slapped them both on the shoulder, and said, “Behave, the both of you.”

There was a flurry of wings as a raven and small shrike descended from the rafters. The raven went to Miles, and so was probably ‘Ren’, while the shrike (Killer by default) settled on Mark’s shoulders. Melina took in the two daemons, and revised her previous statement to, “The four of you, then.”

My half-sister was comfortable here, I realized. Comfortable with the Vorkosigans, the powerful Miles and dangerous Mark, and was far more comfortable and happy with them than she had been with us. She had spoken of Miles as her clan-brother, and now that I saw them together, they were siblings in truth. Regretfully, I released the dreams I had hardly been aware of holding. 

“-And this person with his head in the clouds is Silvio.” I was drawn back to reality by Melina’s voice. Milagra had pressed herself against my leg.

I don’t remember the response I gave, but I looked at Melina, so much more real than I ever imagined and far more other than I could ever hope to understand, and realized that however much I wanted the dreams and how painful the reality I wouldn’t exchange it for anything.

Although I still hope to see Melina meet Abuela.


End file.
